Martin Fic Part the First
I am back, with a new PC. Martin "I See Dead People" Orchard, Vigilance monk, Naga and necromancer. Prompts are as ever, good.
[The reaper]
I like Reaper a lot, he has potential. A politician’s mind and ambitions, but the practical and Loyal soul of a Marcher. I do not deal in the fine print and tedious numbers if I can avoid it, such riddles do not appeal. Give me instead the simple duplicity or blunt brutality of Winter, or the smirking mayhem of Night. So I pry, I needle. I see his reaction when I stir up Dawnish opinion on their noble Archmage of Accountancy. Ambition is a fire that must be tended, after all.
[Whispers in the trees]
I reach the tiny clearing with Sister Kathryn and we squint at the skull of some beast while we feel around it for the portal. I can hear the whispers in the trees, the hungry voices of the Wasteland calling to me. Urging, seducing me to stand with her and her alone here, to abandon my scruples if that is what it takes to survive, to let the head rule the heart. Kathryn’s practically Draughir already, magic be damned, so I don’t bother worrying on her behalf. She’s probably enjoying this but I have learned enough of these minds now. I draw on my nature, my passion, on that roiling pit of dark fire that is the best among curses. I let it rise up like the campfire’s flame that holds back the wolves.
Behind us, others discuss the Wisdom of possibly barging in on the old monsters. Pah, those sound like people who didn’t arm themselves with potion, wit and blade for a chance of swift escape. People who can’t plan for Winter shouldn’t be negotiating with it. I say the words, call the Blade, rend the veil between Realms. We step through to the Desert and I smile at the door guard...
[Clemency]
My Abbot is so generous sometimes! A whole hour with no distractions, just me and my wit against the allure of blasphemy and the mysteries of the Way. Two citizens staring into the jaws of death with Courage the likes of which I’ve rarely seen. Blasphemers they may be, but Virtuous? Oh, how they are Virtuous too! To turn them from the path of Vice, to deny Apathy its martyrs and achieve Salvation for the damned? This is my fight, and win or lose I shall have it in style! The merrow woman sits as calm as any touched by Day, but it is the Priest I turn my attention to. Cut off the head and the body dies. Tame the sheepdog and rustle the flock.
Back and forth we talk, we challenge each other. I explain to him the ways of clemency, how I am only able to help him if I can show their back was pressed to the wall, and they took the path of Virtue regardless. How I am only willing to help him if I believe he truly repents. And so the priest tells his story to a friendly ear, of how the Vigilant desire to shield your home from war led to a slide into Peace. How they follow the Seven still, how they see Peace as an active drive. It’s engaging, it’s heartfelt, it’s a far cry from the way auras of Apathy are said to feel.
They are kindly people, and it is that that lead to their downfall. I offer a choice. They are Virtuous and decent folk, if they die this day they will speed through the Labyrinth for sure. And yet the Synod, the Empire needs minds like theirs. Minds that question, minds that pry, minds that seek Wisdom in defiance of the cost to themselves. I offer them parole. I will argue their Virtue, I will suggest their souls be scoured clean and the priest Excommunicated to prevent future blasphemous auras. This is not without risk, and I stress it must be their choice. The Synod will appoint a mission to their home to keep watch, but also to discuss with them. We must know our enemy. We must know every secret of Peace, or it will spread unnoticed. We must ask the Courageous questions about the nature of Vice. They agree, and I lead them out to the Magistrate, to take my place in this mummer's play.